Bad Blood: Part One
by PJDickinson
Summary: Bad Blood is the first book of the Armageddon Trilogy. Each book consists of three parts each with a prologue and twelve chapters.


BAD BLOOD A Buffy the Vampire Slayer story. P.J. Dickinson  
  
  
  
Part One  
  
  
  
Prologue: The Guatemalan Rainforest. 03:00 hours  
  
  
  
The drop zone was three feverish klicks North of their current position and each step took them further from safety and deeper into Hell.  
  
Their commander was experienced in negotiating this type of terrain, but the squad was relatively green and new to both the jungle and the style of leadership. A halt was called, a clenched fist raised straight into the air. Silhouetted against the silver night sky it resembled the visuals of their destination. They stopped, weapons cradled in powerful arms as they did their best to blend in with the vegetation. A brief conference occurred at the point of the squad. The order to go infa-red and advance at ground level was communicated by hand signals. As one, they dropped onto their bellies and clicked the visors on their helmets in place. A series of buzzing sounds signified the squad maxing out the wavelength. The jungle frame shifted around them, it was momentarily disorientating but they were well trained and maintained the advance through the tropical mulch and insects.  
  
The rainforest was changing character; they felt cool air start to move across any exposed skin. The commander, coated in plasti-steel body armor was launched into a tree and quickly scrambled up its vine-choked trunk for a better view. Communications broke the silence they had been working under since they had left the bird and their earpieces crackled into life. The squad was concatenated in an instant, able to inform and respond with all others in the unit.  
  
The commander's voice came through; quickly and in precise detail the changing environment was described. They had worked their way to their objective. Twenty meters away was the edge of a steep rocky incline where the jungle dropped away. Ropes would be required for the descent.  
  
At their current elevation they were level with the tops of the trees of this lower land. Approximately one hundred and fifty meters to the East a Mayan pyramid towered above the foliage. The area surrounding it had been cleared and there was considerable humanoid activity with large fires burning within the tower's perimeter. The commander using a pair of digi- nocs described the distribution and size of the threat. They were demons, pygmy demons. The atmosphere in the squad lightened. It had been a tough slog and they still had a dirty job to do but at least now it felt less threatening.  
  
They moved out. Four ropes were quickly attached to the sheer rock face with explosive bolts. Three men dug in at the top of the cliff with napalm launchers. If the assault on the tower went badly, and the squad was forced to abandon the mission then this back line could drop nightmarish amounts of covering fire a dozen paces behind the retreating unit. The assault however, would not go badly. The commander was Initiative through and through and had never failed to bring a result home even if the squads that had returned had been less than complete.  
  
The remaining eleven grunts, including the commander, slipped down the ropes and slithered into the darkness below. Contact was maintained throughout the unit via the multi-way radio headsets. Each soldier could hear the breathing of each and every other man. Like a hunting pack in their prime with first blood in their mouths and victory in the air they loped through the jungle. Ten meters from the start of the clearing that surrounded the tower they stopped for one last weapon check.  
  
Every man waited for that one word that would open up the night; the commander whispering attack. The demons were oblivious to their presence, absorbed in their rituals and the sacrifices they required. They were gutting huge numbers of fish and frogs and tossing their innards on the bonfires while dancing in berserk circles. Large chalices of fireflies that had either been de-winged or sedated were being passed around and the waist high demons were pouring the luminescent creatures liberally over their bodies or into their mouths. Cross hairs fixed on craniums as soldiers picked their first targets. This was going to be easy. A gun on hips massacre.  
  
Suddenly the demon pygmies stopped. Everything went quiet. As one they turned and stared out into the jungle. Somehow each set of fiery eyes managed to lock directly with the hidden men. The Initiative all froze waiting for that one word in their earpieces that would release them to action. It was a word that never came.  
  
The first sound was of screams. But it was from no one in the immediate group. A series of explosions deep in the forest behind them identified the point of attack. Their back line was being taken out. Bright trails scorched the sky as grenades were fired wildly into the air. What in the name of God could they be shooting at? Was the attack airborne? The answer came soon enough. It tore its way through the massive Durian and Saurian trees. Sweeping them aside with black claws the size of buildings. It roared and the sound was deafening without the microphones of the multi- way radio channeling it directly from the source. Flames like a petrol refinery exploding gushed from the gargantuan demon's face and scoured the cliff top of all life. The screams in the earpieces had initially been of fear of the unknown. Then they had been from fear of the known and so terrible that when they were snuffed out it was a relief to the rest of the ground troops.  
  
The commander's voice could now be heard. It was a trap...circle formation...remember your training...multi-melters to the front, plasma cannons to the center...Do it...do it now if you want to live.  
  
The monstrous demon thrashed an unknowable number of arms and leapt into the jungle canopy below. The impact of it's landing rocked the unit throwing them into disarray as they tried to organize themselves into a defensive formation. Flames licked about it like sweat, igniting the treetops. The commander was calling out individual names now, allocating offensive power to the demons behind while focusing the majority at the approaching Lucifuge. It was charging through the jungle as if the trees were nothing more than tall grass. Bladders emptied at the sheer power on display. Its ferocity verged on the biblical.  
  
The second in command was screaming dissent. We must retreat. For the love of God order a retreat. We're all going to die. New cries were heard. The demon pygmies extended their arms and from the stones below them energy crackled up their limbs and into the air. Their bodies began to change. Began to warp and multiply and blacken. Under tremendous forces they whipped and contorted, expanding until they dwarfed the tower, which was oozing with a honey like light. It was the last straw. The Initiative was surrounded. Blind panic ensued. Some prayed others tried to run. Frightened out of their minds the shock troops collided with members of their own squad. Realizing the inevitability of their situation most knelt and wept for their souls. Only the commander held the ground. As the demons trampled and incinerated the scattering Initiative, reaching into the undergrowth and lifting individuals into the air to rip them apart the commander followed orders.  
  
The demon that had launched the attack swept away the final tree and stood before the commander of the unit. It roared and tilting its head to the blood moon erupted like a volcano sending flame a mile into the sky. The commander removed her helmet and shook a mane of long blonde hair around her shoulders. She hoisted a plasma cannon to her shoulder and began to work the trigger. She was able to release half a dozen charges at the Hell-beast before it reduced her to ash. The Initiative's attack on Target 14G-3kEast was over. It had not gone according to plan and someone was going to be very unhappy indeed.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sunnydale  
  
One.  
  
  
  
" Oh. I am so happy. " Anya fondled a wodge of green dollar bills and jumped up and down. She vigorously rubbed her hands together as if trying to warm them and sprinkled el dinero over the shop counter. Giles arched an eyebrow.  
  
" Oh happy, happy, happy ", danced the ex-demon, " happy and reeech." She held some under her nose and inhaled deeply, a wide smile illuminated her pretty features. Giles shook his head and resisted smiling at his assistant's exuberant behavior. He had long ago ceased to be shocked by how seriously she took her role as a capitalist. Now, Giles tried to enjoy her enthusiasm for what it was, genuine pleasure and happiness. As far as Giles could ascertain, Anya was unable to experience any form of the blues that the ping of the cash register could not alleviate.  
  
Secretly, he actually found her glee and unapologetic nature quite infectious. He worried slightly if the closing of the doors at the end of each days trading was not preceded by any of Anya's singing. The Giles of twenty years ago would have been so disappointed at how Ripper had turned out.  
  
" All set? " Giles placed his briefcase on the shop counter, removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day and he was tired. All he wanted was to go home, have a relaxing shower and glide between the sheets of his bed with some Trollop. Giles chuckled internally at his own joke.  
  
Anya finished smoothing out the folded corners of the days takings and organized the bills into their different denominations. Then she locked the money in the small floor safe and after checking that the dingbats were definitely secure more times than was necessary gathered up her personal belongings. She flashed Giles with a variety of her best smiles during this whole process. Just to keep the grumpy male happy while he waited.  
  
" Ready, " she said just as the bell above the door tinkled. The door opened. Giles slid his glasses back up his nose and stepped forwards. " Olivia, " he said. Anya cocked her head to one side, why had Giles voice suddenly gone all syrupy.  
  
" Olivia, " said Giles unable to disguise the surprise in his voice.  
  
" Rupert. So good to see you again. " Anya liked the way she purred the English mans name. She made a mental note to address Xander in that way. She was sure he would appreciate it, especially if she said it while wearing that sheer black teddy that gave her no support whatsoever. Didn't he understand what would happen if she wore that all the time.  
  
The woman called Olivia had undulated into the Magic Box and after giving its wares a cursory glance had stopped at a shelf to inspect something more closely. She stood side on to them in a fashion that could only be described as being sly.  
  
" Five minutes overtime already Giles. "  
  
" Mmm. What? Oh yes, please go Anya. " His eyes never left the dark woman. Thank you he called as the door swung closed on her.  
  
Xandur. Xanduur. Xanduurrr. If she said it really slowly she could make her chest rumble. She liked that.  
  
Back in the Magic Box Giles was still deciding which vowel to trip over first. " Oh, um, I, I, I. "  
  
" So Giles, " said Olivia holding up an Iban fertility statue with a large appendage angling upwards, "exactly what type of joint are you running here? "  
  
" Uh, uh, well. " Don't remove your glasses man, he told himself. For Goodness sake don't.  
  
" Looks kind of like a bong. " She raised it to her luscious lips as if to take a hit. Giles realized that he was holding his glasses and giggling manically like a schoolgirl. Olivia covered the final distance between them in heels designed for the job. She stood close, clothes almost touching and looked up with those magnificent eyes of hers. They were as rich as Belgian chocolate and as dark as magic eight balls. Every fiber of Giles body wanted to shake her and see what the future had in store for them. He wanted to put his arms around her, pull her close and introduce her to the wonders of the pommel horse in Buffy's training room.  
  
He fought his way back to English restraint. Then, just as her lips parted to deliver some new innuendo he leaned forwards and kissed her hard. He knew this woman very well. She was Olivia Jackenzie, lead cellist with the London Symphony Orchestra. She and Giles had had a relationship since before he had rejoined the Watchers Council. They had never been lovers, in that they had ever been in love. They had always in their hearts been slaves to their separate vocations. However, from time to time, when their choppy lives crossed they took the opportunity to spend quiet time in the arms of another who reminded them of when life had been simpler. A time, now in the past, when he hadn't been Rupert Giles, Watcher to the Slayer and she wasn't Olivia Jackenzie, Previn's ingénue. When they were alone they returned to the selves they had had to leave behind. Ripper and Jazz; scourges of the demonic underworld of Albion.  
  
She melted in his arms, grabbing handfuls of tweed as the passion rose. He almost allowed himself to fall in. But broke the kiss before she was ready. Ripper was in control. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.  
  
" What say we get drunk and do something bad. " He said.  
  
" Oh, " she cooed, " Now that's the Giles I remember. "  
  
Giles picked up his briefcase and then reconsidering, tossed it aside. He wasn't going to need that tonight. He plucked the BMWs keys from his pocket and twirled them on one finger as he opened the door for her.  
  
" Would you like to go for a ride in my shiny new sports car? "  
  
" Only if you will push her to the limit and see how fast she goes? "  
  
Giles checked the interior of the Magic Box one last time and then locked the door. " Why ever not, " he said to himself.  
  
Two.  
  
  
  
"Please Miss Summers. Hold still."  
  
"Wuuuurraggghhhh"  
  
"Please Miss Summers, I nearly have it. Jesus. Nurse, suction."  
  
"Wuuugghh."  
  
The nurse pinned Buffy's head back on the operating chair and crammed more tubes in her mouth. "Godammit!" swore the dentist. He strained to reach another pair of extraction pliers, a bigger pair, and clamped them to the end of the set he had already fixed around the recalcitrant molar. With this added leverage he set to work on the tooth again.  
  
"Woookh."  
  
"I'm sorry about this Miss Summers, please stop fighting." He wasn't sorry at all. Now, Doctor Daedalus was pissed. Never had he encountered such a problematic patient. Her tooth was riddled with infection. It was more cavity than masticator and yet he couldn't even get it to budge. The blasted thing wouldn't even break. If it would just crack above the gum then he could drill it out piece by piece.  
  
"Wuh, wuh, wuh." sobbed Buffy.  
  
The door to the waiting room opened and a redhead, obviously alarmed by the ruckus stuck her head in, "Buffy?"  
  
"Uh Gug Wugwow. Hugp mag."  
  
"Now nurse Gonzales." Cried the dentist. He had one more trick up his sleeve.  
  
Surprise.  
  
He slammed one knee in Buffy's chest and launching himself into the air came down on the pliers sticking out of her mouth with two tendon bulging arms.  
  
Something twanged and Doctor Daedalus found himself lying on the floor with a very cute and drooling blonde on top of him. Any other time, he thought.  
  
He looked at the piece of metal in his hand. One of the pliers had broken. Impossible. They were a composite of stainless steel and tungsten. There was no way they would have broken before a diseased tooth. Miss Summers and the redhead were removing all the surgical garbage from her mouth and the look in her eyes said that complaints regarding broken equipment would not be tolerated today. Miss Summers swiped some Vicadin from his cupboard and left with one hand on her swollen jaw. The redhead gave him a look that said, you are a very bad dentist and followed her friend out of his surgery.  
  
Nurse Gonzales was in shock. Her face was flushed and sweaty and during the hectic struggle buttons had popped off her smock to reveal some caramel cleavage and just a hint of red lace. The suction pump was still running in her hand.  
  
Any other time thought Doctor Daedalus.  
  
Three.  
  
  
  
"Oh Giles. She's beautiful." Olivia ran her hand over the machines hard shell, which had turned from red to burgundy in the decaying light.  
  
"I call her Jazz," said Ripper, "because you never know where she is going to take you next."  
  
He pressed the beeper and the cars lights flashed and its locks released. If he hadn't been so distracted by the beauty before him he might have noticed that the lock to the trunk had been broken. But he didn't, he was in full on, hot-blooded Ripper mode.  
  
"And," he said sliding one arm around her waist, "she's hot." It was corny but Ripper didn't care. And judging by where Olivia put her hand neither did she. Somewhere deep inside Rupert removed his glasses, sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Ripper opened the passenger side door and Olivia eased herself in. The seats were low and her skirt tightened then rode high up her thighs as she sat down. Her skin looked so good against the creamy white interior.  
  
He closed the door and then did something he hadn't done in a long time. On automatic pilot his body feel back into old patterns and patted down his pockets looking for a packet of cigarettes. He had none. He shrugged, they were going to the off-license, and he would get some fags there.  
  
He completely missed the change in Olivia's expression. Her languid poise suddenly tensed and reflected in the inviting waters of those tropical eyes dark shapes moved. He had been careless. He had forgotten where he was and what happened when the sun set. Damn Ripper, screamed Rupert. Damn him to Hell.  
  
Something warm and gelatinous emerged from the shadows along the walls of the alley. It struck him across the back and wrapped itself around his extended right arm. Immediately it began to set like cement. The impact of its mass suddenly hitting him sent him careering along the side of the bodywork and onto the trunk. He tried to move, to twist away, and to get to the weapons in his briefcase. He was stuck.  
  
Another clot of the demonic phlegm exploded from the shadows and struck him square in the face. He saw it coming but could do nothing. Instantly his ability to breathe was gone. He could still hear though. Olivia was screaming in the car. Screaming for his help. A sudden light appeared in the sky as if a monstrous portal had opened. A terrible wind came from within it sending litter spiraling in to the air and throwing dumpsters against walls. He tried to fight against the fluid but it had hardened and he was set in stone. Stuck to his shiny red car like a bug in gum.  
  
What had attacked them? His encyclopedic mind leafed through entries that matched this modus operandi. Memnoch demons? Or Lusurgi clan or good grief perhaps even Wallachian Hell beasts. Oh Olivia, I'm so sorry and with that Giles asphyxiated brain went unconscious.  
  
Moments later the alley was silent. Purged of all living creatures. The litter slowly drifted down and all activity ceased. The only sign that anything untoward had happened there was the thick strands of hardened gloop that encrusted the rear of the vehicle.  
  
Tentatively a sound was heard. Gentle, cautious at first it rose in volume to a maniacal beating of flesh against metal. Someone was in the trunk of the car and trying to get out but was trapped by the unnatural glue that had netted Giles.  
  
The beating died off and then ceased completely as whoever was in the trunk resigned themselves to their incarceration. The alley grew quiet again except for a muffled voice that said, "Oh bloody marvelous."  
  
Four.  
  
  
  
"Feeling any better Buffy?"  
  
"Oo gust marbeguss gankfew." Said Buffy. She realized she had delivered it too sharply when she felt her friend wince. Buffy reached out and touched Willow's arm.  
  
"Sourgee." she said. Buffy wanted to add that it `hurg agot' but that would have been just stating the obvious. Her slayer strength had so many advantages but at other times it was a real drag. Especially when it meant normal dentists couldn't pull superteeth.  
  
They were walking through Sunnydale to Xander and Anya's flat. Just as they were crossing the road to the apartment complex a truck pulled up and Xander with hardhat and lunchbox climbed out. He waved to his lift as the truck pulled off then spotted Buffy and Willow. His face cracked into a smile.  
  
Use the pain. Move through it and let it make you sharper, Riley would have advised. Don't give in to it. Thinking of him Buffy momentarily forgot the dental pain. Her heart shed a little tear of pure regret. Where was he now she wondered? She felt so badly about how that had all ended. If she had the time to live again would she have run after him any faster? If it had been Angel would she have made the jump to the helicopters struts? Perhaps shouted louder, made him hear her. Had she given up on Riley? Had she in her heart wanted him to go?  
  
Xander's beaming face was suddenly in hers and his arm around her shoulders.  
  
"How's my little slayer?" he was saying, "Want me to beat up that bad dentist?" Buffy pushed him away.  
  
"Zandagh, Yugh smugh."  
  
"A good smell or a bad smell? Is it the manly aroma of a day of testosterone soaked man work, or is it more like the sewer line we cracked?"  
  
Buffy shrugged, "Asgh Angyah."  
  
"Ah Anya. Sweet spawn of Satan, love of my life." They went up to the building with Xander taking the steps two at a time, dancing like Gene Kelly as he called Anya a litany of names that could only apply to a Sunnydale gal. Willow laughed at his antics, helping him out with more names, some nasty just for the sake of it. Buffy held back. Thinking of Riley had brought her down. It made her think about herself.  
  
As Xander held the security door open for her what sounded like a Black Ops. Chopper shot across the sky above them. Buffy's head whipped back to see what it had been but as she did her tooth woke up and began playing its rusty violin again. She moaned and Xander put his arm around her again and led her up the stairs to his flat with promises of bourbon and distracting sex.  
  
He was an asshole, thought Buffy but she loved him. At least it was one relationship she hadn't managed to royally ruin.  
  
Five.  
  
  
  
Giles reclined and enjoyed the sensation of the suntan oil bake his chest. It felt wonderful, even more so because of the woman he was spending this downtime with.  
  
The Pacific broke hard against the Californian beach shaking the sand and sucking at the shingle before another breaker crashed in. This was the life. Blackpool be damned, he was an ex-pat and proud of it. He reached out for his daiquiri but the glass was empty. No matter. He settled back on his towel and allowed the sun to continue microwaving him.  
  
His mind drifted, pulsing in time with the tide. Back and forth, to and fro, round and around. Counting out the day on a clock of natures design. He started suddenly. Had he fallen asleep? Eyes shielded behind black ray bans he groped to his side trying to locate Olivia. Perhaps she needed some more oil applied. He certainly hoped so. Never before had he had a whole beach to enjoy with a woman in such fine weather.  
  
For some reason Olivia felt cold to his touch. He was aware of a sudden smell, sharp and unpleasant. Some sewage blowing inland from the beach he thought. It was certainly windy enough.  
  
He rolled over and removed his shades. The sun was so strong that he was nearly blind. All he could make out of his companion was a dark outline. With arms shaky from the sun he propped himself up and removed some stray curls that had become soaked in sweat and stuck to her forehead.  
  
He said her name. There was that smell again. What was that confounded stench? It was beginning to ruin his day. Perhaps they would have to move further along the beach.  
  
He repeated her name. Olivia moved. Her arm came up and slowly she removed her own shades. Giles recoiled. The sea began to beat harder and harder. It seemed to crash on the sand inches from their feet and yet there was no spray.  
  
Olivia's eyes were gone. Where they had been were two dark chasms filled with gore, which ran down her face like yolk. She opened her maw and the smell came back tenfold. Putrescent and ulcerous and acrid like sick piss. She was speaking, talking in that throaty growl she had but the body was dead and decaying and the voice was a phantom of the living woman's sexual appeal.  
  
Giles recoiled, tried to scramble away but her arms snapped out and with great strength she pulled him towards her. He could not resist. As she drew him closer the smell grew in intensity making him retch. In his ears he could hear her cooing pillow talk, but her body was beyond the acts she proposed. She was opened from neck to crotch. All the soft organs were missing removed by the crabs and gulls while he had slept. In the cavity that remained sand flies hopped and laid eggs. Her dark skin hung in tattered flaps over her ribs and thighs.  
  
Her grip on his head increased. She pulled him closer then lower and arched her hips. The stench was beyond belief. Giles was now screamed uncontrollably as Olivia's corpse pulled him deep within her abdomen and there something began to coil about his face.  
  
Six.  
  
  
  
"Honey. I'm home."  
  
Work Xander set his lunchbox on the kitchenette counter and casually threw his hard hat on the sofa.  
  
"Anya baby, your man is home and there is no food on the table." He smiled at Buffy and Willow to let them know that this was part of the routine; as if they didn't already. The bedroom door was slightly ajar and from within came the sound of Anya's voice.  
  
"Xanduur. Xanduurrr."  
  
Xander was taking off his lumberjack shirt and flung it in the hamper in the bathroom. Willow sat herself at the counter while Buffy popped two Vicadin in her mouth and began looking through he cupboards for some of Xander's promised alcohol to wash them down. She found a bottle of Wild Turkey and unscrewed the cap.  
  
"Anya honey, are you okay. You sound like you've got the cold."  
  
"Xanduur. I seem to have manacled myself to the bed. Why don't you get your big butch tool belt out and see what you can do."  
  
Xander's face resembled that of a frog caught in the lights of an oncoming lawn mower.  
  
"Uh Anya honey."  
  
"Xanduurrr. I can make my chest vibrate. Come and feel."  
  
"Anya we have company."  
  
"Its not that twin of yours back is it?"  
  
Xander wrung his hands.  
  
"No its Buffy and Willow."  
  
There was a moment of almost complete silence the loudest thing being the hum of their combined blushes. Anya came out of the bedroom with a gown pulled tight around her. She took the whiskey from Buffy's hands and put it to her head. For an instant, pain forgotten Buffy felt for Xander.  
  
"So what do you want?" blurted Anya.  
  
Buffy dry swallowed the painkillers.  
  
"Buffy is here because we're all supposed to be meeting Giles at the Magic Box for a Scooby conference," explained Xander. Anya took another gulp. "And you. Lesbian. What's your problem?"  
  
Willow was more shocked than she ever had been before in her life. Her face looked like it had been pressed against a sheet of glass as she swiveled on the seat from Buffy to Xander. Xander crossed the room in an instant and escorted his fiancé to the bedroom.  
  
"Look perhaps we can meet you at the Magic Box." He nodded his head a few times behind Anya's back to indicate that they take the hint. Anya grabbed him by the vest and threw him roughly into their sanctuary.  
  
"Yes. Meet us at the shop." It wasn't even a disguised request. It was a command from a woman who had in a previous life been a vengeance demon and in this life had been anxiously anticipating the return of her man. Buffy and Willow put their heads down and left the flat immediately. Buffy hadn't completely lost her wits though. The bottle of Turkey was in her back pocket.  
  
  
  
Seven.  
  
  
  
Giles was suddenly very conscious. He was kneeling on something hard and cold. His hands were restrained behind his back and there was a blindfold over his eyes.  
  
He tried to take in his surroundings with his remaining senses. Noise came first. There was a terrible amount of noise where he was. A noise that shook everything including himself. Was he in some Hell dimension? It did not feel right. The smell from his nightmare was here though. Now however it was more like ammonia and he recognized it immediately; smelling salts. How could he ever have mistaken that smell?  
  
"Good. Thought we'd lost you there for a second." Did he recognize that voice? It sounded human and familiar but he couldn't put a face to it. How long had he been unconscious for? What exactly had happened? They had been going to see the car in the alley behind the shop and then what. They had been attacked. There had been a powerful wind and a brilliant light. His mind failed him. Oh my God!  
  
"Olivia." He shouted suddenly remembering her screams. Something or someone struck him hard across the face.  
  
"Lets keep it down Mr. Watcher. No need to embarrass ourselves any more than necessary." It was that same voice talking to him. Giles realized that there were more people in here with him. Others who weren't talking.  
  
"I swear to all you hold holy," started Giles, "If you hurt one hair ." Another strike across the face. He was grabbed by the jaw and his head pushed back against the wall behind him. The voice was on the other side of the blindfold, spraying saliva on his skin. It had lost the small amount of pleasantness it possessed.  
  
"Listen very carefully English. Your bitch is alive. How much longer is directly dependent upon you. I'm going to ask you a question. The answer had better be the right word." To his right Giles thought he heard a sniff. A woman's sniff.  
  
"Olivia are you here?"  
  
The hand on his jaw became a boot and he slumped sideways his head swimming in lights. The smelling salts brought him round. He lay on his left arm and tried to gather his wits. He tested whatever was around his wrists.  
  
"Maglocks. Can't be released until we reach our DZ," said the voice. Suddenly it all made sense.  
  
"DZ? Maglocks? You Initiative cretins. I've made custards with better espionage skills than you lot. Who's in charge?" There was no answer. Giles was really hot now. All fear was gone and was replaced with deep anger.  
  
There was movement to his right. The voice spoke again.  
  
"Whose side are you on?"  
  
"What? Have you completely lost your sanity? I will say nothing until I know where Miss Jackenzie is."  
  
"Hatch," said a new voice. There was the sound of a door on rails being slid to one side and the cabin was filled with an icy wind that blew Giles hair about his face. Well that answered one question. They were in a helicopter. With the hatch open they were exposed to the full roar of the rotors. Yet under all this cacophony Giles could hear duct tape being ripped from skin and the unmistakable sound of a pistol being chambered. Olivia screamed. There was terror in her voice. How high were they? What were they doing to her?  
  
"Giles. What's going on? What have you done to me?"  
  
"Hold on Olivia. It's all going to be okay." Giles tried to get to her, to find her with no arms and no eyes in a room full of soldiers. He was deftly knocked down.  
  
"No everything is not going to be okay," shouted the voice, "Tell me now. Whose side are you on?"  
  
"Don't you dare hurt her. Don't you dare."  
  
"Side asshole. Are you with us?"  
  
"I don't know what you mean."  
  
"Giiiles."  
  
"Olivia you bastards I'll hex every last one of you I'll send you to Hell you'll die a thousand deaths I'll.."  
  
BLAM!  
  
Something wet hit Giles in the face. Was it rain from outside? Giles crumpled in a corner. The chopper hatch was closed. There was a smell of cordite in the air. The chopper droned on to their DZ. Whup, whup, whup. Giles started to shake. Someone threw a blanket over him.  
  
"You better be on our side or that was just the start of the dying." said the voice into his ear.  
  
  
  
Eight.  
  
  
  
"Ah," said Anya as she strode into the Magic Box, "Now everything is alright. Anyone want tea? The English man likes tea. I'd like tea. Warm sweet tea." She went into the small cupboard that served as their kitchen to put on the kettle almost illuminating the cruddy little room with her glow.  
  
"Everything back to normal then?" asked Willow.  
  
"Yug." Said Xander sitting down and rubbing his jaw muscles. Buffy pulled a face and rubbed her own jaw line.  
  
"Jeez," commented Willow with innocence behind her years, "these toothaches are really catching."  
  
Anya came back out with a tray of steaming cups of tea and some stale donuts. She was dressed in easy jeans, old sneakers and a vile colored fleece top. Her hair at the front was tousled and standing up.  
  
"So," she started, "how is everyone?" Willow was the only one in the group who felt like responding verbally though Anya's recent barbs were still sore points for her.  
  
"Where is Giles?" she said, perkily as she could manage. Buffy and Xander shrugged. Anya looked right, then left and then shrugged. "Probably with that English woman."  
  
"Whud Unglesh wumun?" Either the painkillers or the Wild Turkey or a combination of the two had begun to kick in because Buffy felt her mouth was slowly returning to its normal state.  
  
"Oh just some woman who came in at closing time and got Giles hormones racing." Anya waved away the information as she tucked into a donut.  
  
"Mmm. Sugar. Here Xander you have some sugar." Xander refused the proffered treat. He'd rather not have the energy, just in case Anya's good mood lasted.  
  
"Whut Englush womun?" persisted Buffy, "Oh mu God Zandah. Huve u nud hud uh showher?"  
  
Xander clamped his arms by his sides.  
  
And crossed his legs.  
  
"Just that English lady who hung round his house a year ago wearing his shirts. The well dressed one."  
  
"Olivia," volunteered Willow. Anya nodded around her donut and rolled her eyes as if to say 'trust you to remember a good looking woman's name'. It wasn't lost on Willow who scowled.  
  
"Well I'm going to phone him. See if he's coming tonight." Even Buffy couldn't completely smother a smile. Willow dialed a number then waited as Giles phone rang. She hung up.  
  
"No answer," she said.  
  
"Maybe Giles has taken a night off being Watcher man," suggested Xander.  
  
"Maybe not." Willow walked across the shop and picked something up from the wall behind the front door. She held up Giles briefcase.  
  
"He wouldn't go anywhere without his briefcase." she said.  
  
"Rooght. Gat gettles id." Buffy sat back down, "Oooh Gawg Zangah. Hulph mug."  
  
It was Xander's turn to stand up.  
  
"Right here's the plan. Willow you come with me. We're going to his house to find out what the dirty dog is up to."  
  
"Righteo." Willow set the briefcase on the table and pulled on her shawl.  
  
"Anya. You stay here. We'll phone and let you know what's happening. You never know, Giles might turn up by himself. We'll be back as soon as possible. Buffy you do what you do best. Go out and crack some heads and see what you can turn up."  
  
Xander took a long hard look at the Slayer.  
  
"On second thought you just sit there and drink that Turkey I know you stole from me."  
  
"Ohkah. Sourgee."  
  
"Ooo Xander. You've gone all military and its doing things for me."  
  
"No time for that now love. We've got an upper class twit to find, no idea where to start and the wrestling is on in less than an hour. Will, lets hit the streets."  
  
Xander swept dramatically out of the shop with Willow running to catch up. It was one of his finest moments and he knew it. He just hoped that the door didn't hit him on the ass on his way out.  
  
Buffy and the donut muncher sat in silence for approximately ten seconds.  
  
"U'm gung patrullung." Buffy took another swig of the Whiskey and stood up. She swayed into the training room and took a crossbow of the wall and a small axe out of the weapons locker. She went back into the magic box and put on her coat. She checked that Mr. Pointy was in his usual pocket and tied the belt. She popped two more Vicadin in her mouth and washed them down with the whiskey.  
  
"You know," said Anya licking frosting off her fingers, "If you really want to find Giles then you're going about this the wrong way."  
  
"Oh rheaggy." Buffy's mouth was killing her and her patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Und whug wud goo sugget?" Anya opened her arms and indicated the wares of the Magic Box.  
  
"Give me two minutes," she said extracting her pinky from her mouth with a pop.  
  
  
  
Nine.  
  
  
  
Giles. Ripper! No, Rupert. The chopper landing. Bundled. Being moved. Still blindfolded. Heat. Hot, dry dusty oppressive heat. Voices. Sounds. Chopper quietening down. Truck. Bouncing. Stopping. Doors opening. Artificial light. Pain. All over. Tired. Numb. Not numb enough. Olivia. Damn Ripper. Injection. Arm. Rushing. Speed. Coming back. NO! He didn't want to.  
  
Ahhh, thought Giles. Where am I?  
  
He remained motionless, he had learnt. Keep it quiet.  
  
He was somewhere new, no longer on the chopper. Where was he being taken? He assumed he was still a prisoner of the Initiative. What had happened to them? This was not the same outfit he had gotten to know through Riley. These people were brutal. They had murdered Olivia because he had resisted them. They hadn't even threatened. An order had been given and now she was dead. He was to blame. It was his fault. Her blood was on his conscience.  
  
He was being moved again. He was lying on his back. Probably on a gurney from the way the light came through his blindfold. Strongly and then weakly and then strongly again. It was as if he was being wheeled along a corridor. There was commotion all around him but it wasn't centered on him. He was passing through it. Anonymous.  
  
Eventually he was taken away from the busy corridors. He came to a stop and heard people walking away; his porters most likely. He tried to move convinced he was momentarily alone. No luck. He could feel restraining straps crossing his body. More footsteps. The sound of plastic hospital doors swinging open then slapping shut. He heard voices. One voice he recognized immediately, he would never forget that voice. It was the sound of the man that had killed Olivia. He would get them. He would get them all. They would pay. They had no idea who they were dealing with.  
  
The doors slapped together again. Either someone had come in or a decision had been reached and someone had left. Giles strained to decide which was the case. There was a new voice. Someone had come in. Oh my God. He recognized this man.  
  
"Riley Finn! You cowardly bastard. How could you do this?"  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. Giles. Couldn't be helped."  
  
Giles strained in the gurney and desperately tried to break the restraints. A stream of expletives spurted from his mouth.  
  
"Please Mr. Giles." Riley was trying to placate him. He placed a hand on Giles chest but that just made him worse. He bared his teeth and tried to plunge them into Finn.  
  
"Mr. Giles. Please calm down. I'm sorry for the circumstances. But believe me, when I tell you why you have been brought here you will help us."  
  
"Like Hell. She was an innocent."  
  
"Compared to what is coming we are all innocents." Riley reached behind Giles head and removed the blindfold. Giles fixed on the younger mans face. Riley had gone through some changes since the Watcher had last seen him. The blonde hair was still there but now was in a severe military cut. His face, or what remained of it was recognizably that of the soldier that Giles had once known and considered a friend, though now it was scarred and battle hardened. The right side was gone. Hidden behind metal and wiring. Where his right eye had been was now a pulsing red light.  
  
"I hope that hurt."  
  
"It sure did Mr. Giles. Still does as a matter of fact. I just hope you won't end up going through the same thing.. "  
  
Riley left the rest open. He turned to the two guards.  
  
"I brief him in twenty. Keep him quiet until then." With that Commander Finn left the room.  
  
  
  
Ten.  
  
  
  
"Right that should do it." Anya surveyed the magic paraphernalia she had gathered on the tabletop.  
  
"Do what?" asked Buffy. She took another deep hit from the bottle. Her Watcher was missing, last seen with an English woman who stank of the Watchers council. Even the thought of those guys made her blood boil. She wanted to be out cracking heads and finding out what was going on instead of sitting in the Magic Box listening to Anya.  
  
"This should find Rupert Giles," perked Anya as she opened an original copy of the Malleus Malleficarum.  
  
"How?" asked Buffy. Buffy didn't understand why if there was magic to be done Willow wasn't the one performing it.  
  
"Its simple. You're trying to find a man. A refined and honorable man but a man none the less. Now all your Wicca, it's very good for channeling and contacting the more ethereal aspects of our universe, but if there's one- thing men are not, its ethereal. Wicca is just too female-centric for this job if you know what I mean."  
  
Buffy found herself agreeing. She loved Willow to death but there was an awful lot of flowery print and a penchant for tabby cats underlying most of the magic she was involved in. Perhaps Anya with her bed-head and up-front desires was more in touch with men and the way they thought.  
  
"Men aren't as versatile as women. The moon sign corresponds to Ying, or the female aspect of life. It's easy to see why. Constantly changing, a hidden dark side, monthly cycles yah-di-yah and all that."  
  
"The male counterpart is the sun. Dependable, reliable, honest. You do realize that I'm talking about the ideal man. Not most men. Anyway what does the sun do? It rises and it sets. Up and down, up and down. If you get my drift."  
  
Buffy took another slug of the Wild Turkey and shrugged.  
  
"Does in and out help?"  
  
"I got it Anya."  
  
"So anyway, men are simple. They all have one thing in common."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"One thing they all love. More than life itself." Anya began to mix ingredients. Orange essential oil, musk, gunpowder and a piece from a Yak that made Buffy wince for Mrs. Yak.  
  
"So if you know what they love, which we do, then we can know what they really love with that bit of their anatomy. That one thing apart from that first thing that makes them feel like a man."  
  
Buffy thought that she followed Anya's train of thought. It was very different from Willows who would probably have summoned a guide to talk to or be advised by or even just follow.  
  
Anya mixed the ingredients into a small cauldron and held up the Malleus Malleficarum. "This is the most male centered book written ever, well since the Bible anyway. It was used by the Spanish Inquisition to persecute witches or basically any woman that wouldn't kneel down and kiss their ring."  
  
"Can do without the detail Anya."  
  
"Do you have something personal of Giles?"  
  
Buffy thought for a second and then opened his briefcase and removed his Watchers guidebook. It was one of his most prized possessions. Buffy hoped this spell wouldn't damage it.  
  
"Perfect." said Anya. She placed the book in the cauldron and poured the blood of a lion killed by an unarmed Masai warrior over it. Immediately the tables built in magic circle ignited and the air filled with eldritch energy.  
  
Anya began to chant from the book and the Spanish Inquisitions twisted and malevolent yang began to work its mojo.  
  
"So in the pot is going to appear something that Giles loves because it completes him as a man which in turn is going to lead us to him because his love for it makes it special?" said Buffy.  
  
"Exactly." said Anya, "Glad to hear your tooth is getting better."  
  
"Wow it really is that simple."  
  
"Of course. It's a man spell."  
  
The light suddenly built to a crescendo and with a brilliant flash blew all the candles out.  
  
"Right," said Anya, "turn on the lights and lets see what we've got."  
  
Buffy hit the switch and Anya reached into the cauldron.  
  
"Oh," she said, "I'm almost disappointed."  
  
  
  
Eleven.  
  
  
  
  
  
The briefing had ended half an hour ago. Giles was leaning against a wall beside a water fountain in one of the initiatives many corridors. Riley walked up to him.  
  
"Now you understand?"  
  
"Yes," sighed Giles, "Now I understand."  
  
"And you'll help us?"  
  
Giles ran some water into his hand and wiped the cold liquid over his face. His hand turned red.  
  
"Yes I'll help you. I'll do whatever I can. How can I not?"  
  
"Good. I'll have someone come for you in a few minutes."  
  
"Superb." Giles stood up straight, stretched his shoulders and put on his glasses. "You do realize that when this is over I'm going to kill you Finn."  
  
"Perfectly understandable Mr. Giles."  
  
Riley slapped him on the shoulder with a metal gauntlet that had once been a hand of flesh and blood. "Wouldn't have it any other way." Commander Finn marched away attracting many salutes.  
  
Giles watched him with a terrible weariness in his heart. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Where to begin?  
  
  
  
Twelve.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Car keys?" exclaimed Buffy. "That stupid car makes him feel like a man?"  
  
"Well look at it this way it's going to make getting to him a lot easier." Buffy had to agree Anya had a point.  
  
"So where do you think he left it?"  
  
"Usually parked in the alley at the rear of the shop." Buffy hoisted her weapons and handed Anya the briefcase.  
  
"Okay. Lets go."  
  
"Yay. I love driving his car."  
  
They both went through the back door and there was Giles car. Exactly where he had parked it that morning.  
  
"Its not locked." said Anya.  
  
"Is that part of the spell?" asked Buffy. Anya put her hands up and threw the briefcase on the backseat. She jumped into the drivers seat. Buffy opened the passenger door and peered in.  
  
"Now maybe we should think this through Anya. Perhaps wait for Will and Xander to get back."  
  
"Okay" said Anya and put the key in the ignition. The car went off like a primed bomb. Its wheels burned and the rear end of the car whipped around scooping Buffy into Anya's lap.  
  
"ANYAAAAH."  
  
"It's not me. It's not me. Look no hands. No feet. Its not me." Still burning rubber and screeching like God's nails on a blackboard the sports car powered down the alley.  
  
"Wall." screamed Buffy.  
  
"Wall." screamed Anya.  
  
The handbrake released at the last moment and the shiny red BMW was spat out onto the main Sunnydale through road in a long, black, smoking arc. It wobbled for a sickening moment, straightened out and immediately began to accelerate. The pedal hammered down and the needle buried itself in the dashboard above a hundred.  
  
"Brakes Anya, try the brakes."  
  
"Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap."  
  
There was a sound inside the car of sheet steel bending and material being ripped and a white head punched its way out of a sudden hole in the rear seat.  
  
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite slayer and ex-vengeance demon. You bints going on a road trip?"  
  
"Spike." They screamed in unison as the Sunnydale city limits sign rocketed past and the car plunged into the Californian night.  
  
  
  
To Be Continued in Bad Blood: Part Two 


End file.
